


No Honor, Nor Worthiness

by DelektorskiChick



Series: Pushing the Limit [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom!Steve, Don't copy to another site, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, Multi, Rope Bondage, Safeword Use, Smut, Spreader Bars, Sub!Bucky, crygasm, dom!Natasha, let me know if i missed anything important, sub!clint, there's probably more but I think that's most of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelektorskiChick/pseuds/DelektorskiChick
Summary: Natasha hasn't checked in from a mission, and Clint is worried. Steve and Bucky try and make him feel better.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Pushing the Limit [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/280272
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter One - Barton

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FaeWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeWitch/gifts).



> Well, looks like I'm back on my trash heap. This is the first of three, possibly four new parts I've written to this series. *throws confetti* Enjoy?
> 
> Title is from a quote by Euripides,  
> "When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, nor worthiness."

Clint gnawed on his lower lip as he counted his paces across the shared living room in the tower. Twenty-three brisk strides up, about face, twenty-three strides back.

Natasha was two days overdue for check in. That in and of itself was not necessarily unusual when SHIELD borrowed her back from the Avengers, but with this mission… He was giving her until midnight tonight. If Clint hadn’t heard from her by then, he was commandeering a ‘jet and flying out after her himself, and screw what Hill and Coulson said about procedure. Turning his right wrist, Clint checked his watch, resettled his crossed arms and continued to pace. Three hours. He was giving her three more hours.

About face, twenty-three paces. About face, twenty-three-

Seventeen paces. A shadow, then a body blocked his path.

“Barton, you’re gonna wear a hole clean through the floor.” Barnes’s words were calm, even if his shoulders were tight as he rested a hand on Clint’s arm. “She’ll contact us.”

Clint curled his lip and shouldered his way past the assassin. Who the _fuck_ did this guy think he was? So maybe he’d known Natasha before she was his Nat, so what, he didn’t-

“Agent Barton.” The ice in Steve’s tone froze Clint to the spot. Even his panicked thoughts locked up. “That was extremely rude.” Each word struck its target like a razor-sharp shard. The taller man stepped into Clint’s personal bubble, placing one stiff finger under his chin and lifting Clint’s gaze to his.

Steve’s eyes told him a multitude of things. Steve was just as worried as he was about Natasha. He was _pissed_ about Clint’s treatment of Bucky. He was concerned about Clint's ongoing mental health. And under all of that?

A thread of heat and a question.

Clint opened his mouth to say something -he didn’t know if it was going to be a hot denial or sobbing acceptance- but Steve…

No, he was all the Captain now. He moved his finger from Clint’s chin to his lips, then leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“Go to the room and strip. Present for me.”

A shiver ran down Clint’s spine. He _almost_ argued, but then he thought better of it.

He turned tail and made a beeline for the room that he and Natasha had set up with only one use in mind, one that they had shared first with Bucky and now Steve.

He didn’t _quite_ evade the stinging swat on his ass.


	2. Chapter Two - Rogers

Tony could hardly breathe through all of the different emotions rioting in the room. He peered over the top of his StarkPad at Barnes and Rogers.

He gave a long, falling whistle. “Holy hell, Iceman. You could bounce a quarter off the tension in here. There something going on between you and the bird brain?”

Steve sighed and glanced at the clock before responding. “Ask me again in two hours and fifty-eight minutes.”

*

Steve made his slow and steady way towards Clint and Natasha’s “playroom”. He wanted to give the man a little time to center himself, to get to the correct headspace for the distraction Steve was throwing together on this walk.

If Clint _couldn’t_ get there, he _would_ pull the plug.

Bucky followed close on Steve’s heels.

“You okay taking the backseat for a bit, Buck? I know you’re worried about Natasha too, but-”

“But Barton needs her, in a way that I don’t. Not now that I have you.”

He grabbed Steve’s hand with his flesh one, twining their fingers and lifting them. He brought the back of Steve’s hand to his lips in a gentle kiss.

“I’ll be fine, Stevie. Do what you need to.”

Steve wrapped his free hand around the back of Bucky's head and pulled their mouths together. The kiss was rough, fierce and aching, and when Steve finally pulled away, he caught Bucky’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged gently.

“Good boy.” Bucky’s eyelids fluttered a moment. “When we get in there, strip to the waist. Clint needs to be vulnerable right now,” he said, running through the lessons Natasha had drilled into him. “Him being naked while we aren’t is a step in the right direction.”

Bucky nodded, looking up at his through slightly lowered lashes. “Love you, punk.”

Steve’s smile was sharp. “You too, jerk.”

When Steve opened the door, Clint was thankfully in position, kneeling on the dense foam cushion that was the only concession he willingly gave his ageing knees. He stared at a blank spot on the wall, spine rigid, hands lightly clasped around each wrist at the small of his back.

And he had absolutely zero erection. Nothing.

Steve went to his own knees in front of Clint, deliberately inserting himself into Clint’s eyeline.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yessir,” Clint’s eyes didn’t move. They were still focused on the wall beyond, seeming to gaze _through_ Steve.

“Safeword?”

“Fury.”

“Good. You’re not to speak unless asked a direct question. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Excellent.” Steve flung his hand out and slapped him across the face, snapping Clint’s head to the side. While he was still reeling and attempting to pull himself back into his ordered position, Steve stood and pulled his shirt off, handing it to Bucky to fold and place with his own. Steve turned in time to see Clint refocus his gaze on the wall, and he finally realized what Clint had been looking at.

He was laser-focused on the clock hanging on the opposite wall.

Steve felt the muscles in his jaw flex. They’d never get anywhere with Clint like this. He would have to get him dressed and send him out, and hope that he didn’t hijack a quinjet by himself or something else extremely stupid and dangerous, like-

Bucky touched his arm lightly, holding a silken scrap of fabric up in his metal hand. Steve’s left eyebrow shot up. He knew Clint's hard limits. _Intimately_. Natasha had made him memorize them and sign off on them before she let him anywhere _near_ the archer, and threatened that if he put so much as a toe over the line, she’d tattoo them on his groin before she ripped his cock off.

Blindfolds were a hard No for Clint.

But maybe the question needed to be asked.


	3. Chapter Three - Barton

After the Captain’s slap, it took Clint a few precious seconds to find and refocus on the clock.

 _Two hours and forty-seven minutes, then I go find her,_ he thought.

Steve knelt in front of him again and Clint fought to keep himself from tensing in case another slap was headed his way. If he didn’t stay loose and locked himself up, he’d most likely wind up with something broken.

_Two hours, forty-six minutes._

“Red.”

That one word brought Clint’s brain to a screeching halt. It forced him to actually focus on Steve, not just past him. Focus on Steve and the small piece of black silk he held in his hand.

It was a scarf; not one that they used on Clint or Bucky, but one of the ones that Natasha sometimes used to tie her hair out of the way if it fell during a scene. But Clint felt certain that “hair tie” was not the use Steve wanted to give it.

He shuddered, once, from top to toe.

“You’re still not focused on the right thing.” He toyed with the fabric, letting it glide through his fingers. Clint watched it the way he would a shark in open water.

“I’m aware of your hard limits. I would never think to break them, except that, well, Bucky and I, we thought-”

“I suggested it.” Clint’s eyes snapped over to Barnes. “Sometimes…” he paused, then met Clint’s look with one of his own. “Sometimes the line needs to be pushed.”

Clint looked down, taking in a deep breath and let it out slow, through slightly pursed lips. Then he straightened his spine and met Steve’s eyes.

“Green.”

Steve’s hand came up and gently cradled the same cheek he’d so recently smacked. “Thank you, Clint. For trusting us with this.”

Clint felt tears start to well up in his eyes as he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s palm. Barnes stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Clint’s shoulder. Then Steve handed him the silk, and Bucky stepped fully behind him. Clint kept his eyes on Steve’s until darkness pressed down on his eyelids.

There was a momentary panic as his vision went dark, but then the smell of Natasha hit him from the scarf. That centered him, grounded him like nothing else. Steve’s hand stayed on his cheek, another anchor. Barnes’s hand slid from the back of his head to grip his wrists with light pressure, yet another point of contact keeping him tethered.

Clint heard Steve stand, hand never leaving his cheek, followed by the unmistakable sound of a button popping and then a zipper. He knelt up, lifting his ass from his heels and dropping his mouth open as soon as he realized Steve’s intent.

Steve’s thumb hooked over his lower jaw, both keeping Clint’s mouth open and holding his head in place. Clint felt a shiver trickle down his spine, and his penis finally began to take a little bit of interest in the action.

“Eager little cocksucker, aren’t you?”

“Yesh-sir.”

Air moved behind him as Bucky knelt, straddling Clint’s bent legs and transferring his hold on Clint’s wrists from his flesh hand to his metal one. He heard -and felt- Barnes pull his own zipper down just as Steve placed the head of his cock in Clint's mouth. Steve released Clint's jaw but kept his hand on his cheek as Clint began to bob, taking more of Steve’s length each time. Barnes shifted his grip again, freeing his hands but not his wrists. He felt Bucky feed his own cock into Clint’s palms, and Clint curled his hands around him as Barnes began to thrust, placing a kiss where Clint’s neck met his shoulder.

He gagged a little as Steve hit the back of his throat, but the Captain thrust his hips further in, nearly cutting off Clint’s air as he choked.

“ _Fuck_ , Barton,” he said as his left hand came down and cupped his other cheek. “I always forget how good you are at this.” He stilled Clint’s head and pushed even deeper, holding it for several long seconds. This time he _did_ cut off Clint’s air. When Steve pulled back out, Clint turned his head and coughed, feeling his eyes want to water behind the scarf.

Steve’s thumb brushed lightly back and forth on his cheek.

“Color?”

Clint’s “Green,” was a tad hoarse, but apparently clear enough. Steve drove back in with a groan, then fucked in and out of Clint’s slack mouth. Barnes ran his free hand up Clint’s arm and into his hair, where he twisted his fingers into it above the blindfold and pulled back, angling Clint’s throat for Steve.

The Captain didn’t last much longer after that. With a moan rising deep in his chest, he pulled out, taking one hand from Clint’s cheek. Moments later, Clint felt strands of warm, sticky come paint across his face.

Barnes grunted, and two thrusts later did the same to Clint’s ass.

Clint himself was finally, _blessedly_ hard, but felt deep in the pit of his stomach that there was no relief yet in sight for him.


	4. Chapter Four - Rogers

Steve looked at the abstract lines lacing over the archer’s face. He stayed exactly as the others placed him, not relaxing until Steve managed the words “At ease.”

Clint slid back into the same kneeling position he’d been in when he and Bucky had entered, save for a slight shaking of his thighs and quiet gasps for air. Gently, he cupped Clint’s chin and turned his head back and forth, inspecting him from several different angles.

“Whatd’ya think, Buck?”

“I think that it’s one of your prettier pieces, sir.”

“Hear that, you little slut?” Steve carefully shook Clint’s head. “A god-damn work of art.”

He watched as Clint’s tongue darted out to the corner of his mouth, catching at the come dripping there. Steve laughed.

“Not today, you whore. At least, not yet.”

Clint shivered at his words. Bucky reached behind himself and pulled a towel off the bed, handing it to Steve. Brisk and business-like, Steve perfunctorily cleaned off Clint’s face, then handed the towel back to Bucky who gave Clint’s ass the same treatment. It wasn’t a thorough cleaning, but it was enough so that they wouldn’t be smearing body fluids everywhere.

Then Steve got creative. He’d noticed before, mostly in passing, that he liked to pin Barton into artful and yet excruciating positions. Tonight would be no exception. He dragged Clint up off his knees by the hair, delivering a hard swat to his thigh when Clint tried to bring his arms out for balance.

“Behind your _back_!” he said, adding another smack in the cleft where thigh met ass.

Clint’s hands quickly gripped each other behind his back again, but Steve didn’t miss the way he winced under the blindfold.

He was going to have to tread very, _very_ carefully here.

“Color?”

Clint hesitated then swallowed audibly before responding.

“Yellow. Don’t… please don’t hit that close to my ass with your hand.”

Steve pulled Clint close, never relaxing his grip on his hair, and gave him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. “Of course.”

Then he dragged him, Clint stumbling over his cushion, to the stocks. He tugged Clint’s arms back and bent them in a ninety-degree position at the elbow. Then he slid one of the thin plastic pipes Bucky handed him and that was kept in the room for this exact purpose behind Clint's back and through the double loops of his arms.

“Don’t drop that.”

“Nosir.”

Steve came around to Clint’s front with the spread cuffs, locking Clint’s arms together but keeping him from being able to touch his wrists. It had the added bonus of keeping the pipe locked into place. Steve then bent Clint over at the waist and carefully put his neck in the stocks. Once he made sure that Clint wouldn’t choke himself, he used the pulley system Natasha’d had the foresight to install to lift the pipe Clint was holding and the soft rope he’d looped low around his hips, forcing Clint to rise onto his toes. Steve slid a possessive hand up Clint’s already trembling thigh.

“Whatd’ya think; should I put him in a spreader bar?”

“I think you should, sir, and I think you should strap his balls down too.”

Steve gave Bucky a huge grin while Clint whimpered.

“I think that’s an _excellent_ idea, Sargent.”

Within five minutes, Steve had some rough twine wrapped around Clint’s testicles and had looped the ends around Clint’s heels. He pulled the ends tighter, stretching his sack until Clint gasped, then tweaked it just a little bit further before tying them off.

“Perfect.”

Clint’s entire body from the waist down was now quivering, tight-roping the razor’s edge of pain and pleasure. If he stood flat-footed to take the strain off the balls of his feet, he pulled at his scrotum. If he rose up to ease _that_ pain, he was forced to balance and bear all his weight on his toes. It was the perfect conundrum. Clint and Steve _both_ loved this kind of thing.

Steve held his hand out, knowing that Bucky wouldn’t disappoint him. The paddle he was handed was padded leather on one side with dull metal brads on the other. He ran the padded side lightly over Clint’s thighs and heard his breath shudder.

“How many paces was the floor, slut?”

Clint’s “Huh?” was shaky as he tried to focus.

Quick as a snake, Steve flipped the paddle so that the studded side was facing the archer and brought it down hard on Clint’s ass.

The bound man gave a yelp, startled into falling from his toes and ripping a gasp from him as the twine on his balls was yanked.

“How many paces was it across the floor? Before I sent you in here?”

He heard Clint take a whistling breath in through his nose and watched the fascinating way his body moved and danced in place.

“Twenty-three, sir.”

“You have a choice, cocksucker. You can either take twenty-three from this side-” he smacked Clint with the studded side again, “at my full strength-” Clint whined, “or you can take as many hits as I can give you with this side-” he flipped the paddle and brought the padded side down, “until the Sargent here can get himself off using your mouth.”

Bucky flashed a grin, and Steve was glad that Clint couldn’t see them. It made surprising him so much easier.

He heard Clint opened his mouth to reply.

“Oh, but before you decide, _slut_ ,” Steve brought the padded side down, on Clint’s thighs this time, “If you come without permission, you’ll get the twenty-three anyway.”

Steve leaned back to watch the expressions flit across the exposed parts of Clint’s face. Relief, satisfaction, concern, resignation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clint’s weight shifting again from foot to foot. Then Clint dropped his chin onto the boards of the stocks.

“I’ll take the twenty-three, please sir.”

Steve kept running the paddle up and over Clint’s thighs and ass. Using gestures, he signaled for Bucky to kneel underneath Clint's bound form within easy reach of the man’s cock. Steve knew that the glint that he saw in Bucky’s eye, one of nearly good-hearted mischief, was a reflection of the look in his own.

Gently, he started giving Clint light taps with the riveted side of the paddle, warming his ass up and putting him on pins and needles.


	5. Chapter Five - Barton

Clint was both loving and hating every damn moment of this. Even if he hadn’t been wearing a blindfold, the stocks would have kept him from seeing most of what Barnes and Rogers did, unless they wanted him to. But his lack of sight forced him to focus on other things, like how every fucking “love tap” Steve was giving him yanked on his balls. But it also helped him to hear Steve’s nearly whispered,

“Count.”

Right before the studded side of the paddle drove itself into the meat of his ass.

Clint felt his mouth fall open and wail punched its way out of his gut as he uselessly clenched and unclenched his hands.

“One!”

There were more light taps with the less painful side of the paddle while Clint caught his breath. He was more prepared for the next one Steve laid into him, and as such, he didn’t jerk forward nearly as far and only lost his air rather than crying out.

“Two!”

Rogers surprised him with the next blow. Clint had felt the rush of air before contact, but the hit never landed. Clint didn’t add to the count and was rewarded with Steve running his tongue from the base of Clint's stretched balls to tease at his hole.

“Good little slut,” Steve said as Clint suppressed a whimper of pleasure. It was all the warning he got before the third and fourth blows came, one to each cheek.

His “Four, sir!” was high and breathy.

Steve kept changing things up on him; different amounts of time between strikes, varying locations, different little rewards as Clint managed to keep the count. Then, after Clint’s croaky “Thirteen,” but before hit fourteen, someone sheathed his cock in a hot, wet mouth.

Clint nearly came then and there. Only Bucky’s vice-like grip on the base of his shaft stopped him from pumping his load down Barnes’s throat. He felt tears slide out from under the blindfold as an animalistic moan reached his ears.

It took him a moment to realize that it came from him.

“Hey, Clint.” A hand -Steve’s- rested on the dip of his lower back. “Could you give me a color?”

It took Clint a moment to get his throat to make human sounds again. He wasn’t helped _at all_ by Bucky continuing to slide up and down on his cock.

“Y-yellow.”

“Buck, stop.” The hand slid up his back and left, only to brush as his cheek, gingerly wiping the tears from under Clint’s eyes. Mercifully, Barnes let him go. “What’s yellow, Clint?”

“Bucky. If he keeps up, I’m gonna come. And I wanna- I wanna be good.” His last word shook worse than his calves, and he nearly choked on a sob.

“You wanna be a good little whore? Take your last ten from the paddle?”

Clint nodded into the hand cupping his cheek.

“Okay then.” Steve’s hand dropped from his face, and then was laid gently again on Clint’s lower back, between where the rope had his hips suspended. “We’re going to do this fast, sweet slut. You don’t have to keep counting.”

Clint let out a sigh of relief that choked him as Steve’s denim-clad knee pressed Clint’s cock up against his stomach.

“There won’t be any extra punishment if you come, but I would like you to try and not. Be a good little whore.”

“Yessir.”

And then Clint’s entire world focused in on two points; the paddle on his ass and the friction on his cock. He managed not to come.

Barely.


	6. Chapter Six - Natasha

Natasha was tired, sore in ways that she really didn’t want to think about, and needed to take Clint apart in the _worst_ way. She opened the door to the playroom, intending to send Clint a text to meet her on his knees while she took a shower, but was instead met by the wail that meant her slut was riding the absolute _edge_ of his control.

Her boy was in the stocks, bound in a way she knew had to be nearly killing him, and he was blindfolded.

Natasha saw red.

James’s hand was the only thing that stopped her from pulling the gun she still wore on her thigh and shooting Captain America in the balls. With a quick jerk of his head, he guided her back out of the room.

The moment the door was shut behind them, she whirled on him. “что за хрень, James?”

“He wouldn’t drop. He was too worried about you.” He shrugged, metal shoulder whirring. “I suggested it to Steve, and he sat with Clint and talked to him about it. Arrow boy is the one who green-lit it.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, but she knew that James wouldn’t lie to her, not after the kind of mission she’d just gotten back from.

“And the paddle?” She wasn’t going to question the position Clint was bound in. Steve probably would have strung him up like that, blindfold or no.

“It was twenty-three paces from one side of the common room to the other.”

On the subject of strikes, that was all the explanation needed.

“That was the last?” James nodded, and Natasha began disarming herself, guns, knives and ‘bites alike. “Steve know I’m here?”

“Probably not. He was pretty dialed in to Clint.”

He calmly accepted her arsenal, dog tags jingling quietly.

“Take these to my room and join us again when you’re done.”

“Yes волчица.”

As James walked quickly towards the elevator with her weapons, Natasha took off her boots and undid the zipper of her spare catsuit outside the door. She didn’t want to alert Clint that she was back just yet.

She needn’t have bothered. When she did open the door, Clint was too busy crying as he writhed, speared on the point of Steve’s tongue. All she had to do was put a finger to her lips when Steve glanced up and saw her. He made sure to distract her boy by gripping his bruising ass cheeks, drawing a yelp from the stocks, and buried his tongue in further.

Natasha watched as Clint’s cock twitched, and a long strand of precome oozed lazily from the tip.

James walked into the room as she glanced around and noticed her favorite double-ended strap on lying out on one of the dressers. As she picked it up, she hand-signaled James to his knees. Natasha let her suit slide silently to the floor, then stepped out of it. She unsnapped the borrowed sports bra she wore as James slid her briefs down. She stepped out of them and into her harness, pulling it up to just at her thighs. The soldier on his knees before her looked up with a cocky twinkle in his eye as he leaned in closer.

She was sweaty, tired, and Natasha was fairly certain that she still had another man’s seed spilling out of her, but James just closed his eyes and _savored_ her as he lapped at what was running out of her cunt.

The only one in the room who had to worry about STDs was Clint, thanks to the shitty version of Steve’s serum she and James both had, so she wasn’t worried about him as he cleaned the remnants of the honey-trap-gone-sideways from her. Natasha just curled her hands in his hair and let her head fall back as her thighs started to shake. James’s clever tongue made a moan want to rise in her throat, but that would spoil Clint’s surprise.

His flesh hand cupped the back of her left thigh, holding her steady as he buried his face between the waxed lips of her pussy. After a moment, she felt a tugging sensation at the backs of her knees, and when she pulled James’s head reluctantly away from her, she saw that he was stroking her strap on just like he would a real cock.

Clint broke her out of her mild amusement with a sharp cry.

“P-please, sir, I wanna be good!”

Steve pulled his tongue out of Clint's ass and pinched the base of Clint’s cock. Hard.

Clint wailed, his hips thrusting at nothing as Steve prevented the orgasm Natasha knew had nearly swept Clint away.

“You didn’t come earlier when I said you could. Now you have to _wait_ , whore.”

Clint sobbed, but he stilled his hips and stood, ass bruised and thighs trembling, hands clenching at nothing and his sack stretched far away from his body. Steve rolled up from his knees and Natasha signaled him to let Clint out of his position. Her own hips gave an involuntary thrust as James slid two fingers inside her, curling gently at her g-spot, massaging her clit with the tip of his tongue. He continued for another several moments, bringing her up to just the edge, then sliding her end of the strap on into her and pulling the harness over her hips.

He bobbed his head up and down on it three times, still treating it as an actual cock, then stood and went to go help Steve release her boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "что за хрень, James?" - What the fuck, James?  
> волчица – volchitsa – she-wolf or bitchwolf - what Bucky and Clint call Natasha when speaking about her to a Dominant third party, or in this case, when under the command of another Dominant but still responding to a command from her


	7. Chapter Seven - Barton

Clint was trembling with the effort of not coming. It helped some that Steve’s touch had changed from one desperately pushing him to the edge and hauling him back to one of brisk efficiency. He and Bucky got Clint unbound, then held him steady until Clint was sure his thighs would support him. Steve guided him to the edge of the bed, telling Barnes to strip as he did so.

Steve place Clint on his knees on the side of the mattress, feet hanging over the edge and thighs spread. Then he bent Clint over until his cheek rested on the bed, ass on his heels. He bound Clint’s arms in a U behind his back, forearms against each other. Then he left him there.

Clint was open and exposed, quaking in anticipation of finally getting fucked, when Steve’s next words made his hopes die.

“Eager, were you Sargent?”

“Yessir, Captain.”

“How long has this thing been in you?”

Bucky’s breath caught, Clint heard it. He felt the mattress dip slightly off to the side; had to be Bucky bracing himself on the bed.

“S-since lunch, sir.”

“Hmm.”

Clint felt the weight release on the side, and then the jarring bounce of Bucky landing on the bed in front of him, hearing the whoosh of breath leaving lungs. There were two brief smacks- “Legs _up_ , Sargent!” -and then the sound of a lube bottle opening.

Bucky started moaning, and Clint heard the wet sounds of a toy being moved in and out of his ass. A moan turned into a gasp, and Clint heard him say, “Oh, God, Stevie! Ah-!” He heard Steve humming thickly, and realized that the Captain was sucking Barnes’s cock as he fucked him with the toy, right in front of Clint’s damn nose. What he wouldn’t give to see that up close and personal, but they still hadn’t taken the blindfold off him.

He heard Steve pull off with a quiet sucking noise just as Bucky’s breathing changed.

“Ah-ah, Sargent. You’ve already come once tonight. You have to _earn_ the next one.”

Bucky whimpered.

Clint was so absorbed in trying to figure out exactly what was happening in front of him that he didn’t realize anyone else had come into the room until a long, thick dildo slid easily into his waiting ass. He would have screamed -no one else was allowed into this room- except he recognized Natasha’s naked body as she draped herself over him. She pressed kiss after kiss to the vulnerable nape of his neck, and Clint tried not to cry as gooseflesh raced across his skin.

“Did you miss me?” she murmured, breath ghosting past his ear.

“God, yes, ‘Tash-ah!” Clint’s words cut off in a cry as Natasha turned the toy in his ass to the highest vibration setting. He immediately slammed iron chains of control over the part of his brain desperate to orgasm. Natasha was here, balls deep in him. He could wait forever if she told him to.

Natasha started fucking the strap on brutally in and out of his bruised ass, as violent as her voice had been calm. Clint groaned as she gave her hips an expert twist. To his surprise, she pulled off the blindfold in time for Clint’s eyes to focus on the arch of Bucky’s back off the bed as Steve slid slowly into him.

She pulled nearly all the way out, and then _slammed_ back into him. Her hips were starting to lose the rhythm; she had to be close.

“Come for me, you slut, come _now_.” She hissed in his ear, then dug her teeth into the meat of his shoulder.

Screaming, Clint did just that, cock completely untouched.


	8. Chapter Eight - Natasha

Natasha came nearly the same moment that Clint cried out, and went temporarily blind with the force of her orgasm. Still unable to see clearly, she blinked hard, regaining some control over her limbs. She reached down and switched off the vibrator.

She felt Clint shaking beneath her.

Being quick, but not rushing, she carefully slid out of her end of the harness, trying her best not to jar Clint. Natasha released his arms from his bonds, then rolled him over onto his side.

He had his eyes scrunched shut, and he was crying.

She stroked his hair, trying to ignore Steve pounding into James less than a foot away from them.

“Easy now, love. You’re okay. I’m here.” Clint nuzzled into her hand like a cat. “I’ve got you.” She kept up her stroking motions. “Want me to take that out of you?” Natasha carefully wiped the tears from his cheeks as Clint gave a tiny shake of his head. The pinched look on his face had relaxed slightly, but he still didn’t open his eyes.

“’S you. Wan’ you in me.”

Natasha felt a tiny, happy warmth rise up in her belly, trying valiantly to melt the ice that had frozen her for the last two days. She took Clint into her arms, then let one hand fall to the toy still in his ass. She brushed light fingers against his hot, swollen rim, feeling where the strap on stuck out of him. She grabbed where it was attached to the harness and tugged a bit, pulling it out a fraction of an inch and then sliding it right back in. Clint just buried his face in her chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Natasha felt his tears slow and his breathing pick up a tick, but he remained soft and flaccid against her thigh.

Her poor boy was worn out.

“Do _not_ come, Sargent, or so help me I’ll lock a cage on you for a _month_.”

Natasha looked up to see James almost bent in half, a leg over each of Steve’s shoulders. Steve was pounding into his boyfriend with a speed and strength no normal human could hope to duplicate. James had the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, teeth digging into his bottom lip, whimpering as he tried to hold off his orgasm.

Steve groaned low in his chest, then came with a shout. James’s cock gave a hard twitch, drooling precome onto his abs, but he did not come.

Natasha kissed Clint’s ear. “Come on, my little шлюха. Let’s leave the boys in peace.” She tried to slide the dildo out of his ass, but Clint clenched down, holding it in even though the pain made him gasp against her sternum.

“Shh,” she stroked his hair as James moaned and whined. “Easy. I’m only taking it out to put in a plug, моя любовь. Then we’ll go to my room and nap.” She kissed the shell of his ear again, then bit the lobe just hard enough to make him suck in air through his nose, open his eyes wide, and stare up at her. “When we wake up, I’m cuffing you to my bed and riding your cock until you beg for mercy. And if I’m _in_ a merciful mood in the morning?

“I might, _might_ let you come.”

Clint nodded eagerly as she tugged again at the toy, and this time he let her remove it. His groan as it came completely out was nothing more than a rumble in his chest. She bussed a kiss against his suddenly damp forehead.

“Say goodbye to Steve and James, моя маленькая шлюха. Thank them for the last hour.”

Steve was still deep in Barnes, allowing himself to harden in place. He pulled Clint’s lips to his in one of those loose, wet, open-mouthed kisses he liked to give her boy. When Clint pulled away, instead of leaning down and kissing James’s mouth, he sucked on the head of his dick. He pulled off just in time to watch Barnes cry out, fling his hands off his face, and come all over his stomach.

“Cli-i-int!” he wailed.

Her boy just smirked and stood, exhaustion all over his face.

“I couldn’t let you beat my time, man.”

Steve ignored her archer, gripping his boyfriend’s cock in one massive hand and beginning fast, vicious strokes.

“I told you not to come, and you did anyway. So now you’re going to come until I tell you to stop, you _brat_.”

Bucky started to beg, hands seeking purchase on the mattress and the one arm still supporting Steve as he hovered over him. “N-no, Stevie, please, it wasn’t my fau- ah!”

Steve gave a nasty turn of his wrist that Natasha’s inner domme approved of.

“It is Sir or Captain right now, Sargent. I don’t give a flying _fuck_ whose fault it was,” he winked at Clint. “You came when I said not to, so now you’re gonna do it when I tell you to. Come _now_.”

James did, tears leaking from his eyes and breath sobbing.

“Good boy. _Again_.”

Natasha had chosen Clint's largest plug, carefully lubing it. Now she walked over to where he leaned against the wall near the head of the bed, watching the show with tired eyes. She bent him back over the bed, his face to the left of James, then pressed a kiss to the base of his spine as she slowly worked it into his loose, sore ass. Clint still held his breath as she hit the widest point, then exhaled slowly as it sank in to the base.

“Good slut.” She kissed the back of his neck, then pinched one of his bruises. He popped up and yelped, looking at her with his puppy-dog eyes.

“Give James a proper good bye.”

He leant back down and kissed the other man on the cheek, just as Steve started snapping his hips again.

James curled a hand around the back of Clint’s head, keeping him there a moment longer. “I hate you.” He said, but with zero venom in it.

Clint smirked. “I know.”

Natasha slid robes over her shoulders and Clint's, then walked out the door to Steve saying, “Again,” and Bucky crying out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> шлюха - shlyukha - slut
> 
> моя любовь - moya lyubov' - my love
> 
> моя маленькая шлюха - moya malen'kaya shlyukha - my little whore

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back from my hiatus? I'll be posting the other two completed fics later today, and possibly starting work on the fourth!


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